


Woods Forsaken, Part 3

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, M/M, Other: See Story Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim, Blair, a trip to Germany, some wolves, and a bit of plot. Oh yeah, it's a First Time story too. Rated: NC-17 for language, violence, and m/m content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Woods Forsaken, Part 3

This story has been split into four parts. 

## Woods Forsaken

by Josephine Darcy

Author's website:  <http://JosephineDarcy.tripod.com/>

* * *

Woods Forsaken -- Part Three  
By Josephine Darcy  
JustJosephine@yahoo.com 

The funeral began just as the sun set behind the distant mountains. Tristan spoke briefly but his words were in a language Jim did not recognize. It wasn't German, but the crowd seemed able to understand his words. After he spoke he set torch to pyre and the whole thing burst into flames. The sudden flare of light along with the scent of burning oil and flesh caught Jim off guard. And for one moment he feared a zone out. He fought to pull himself back, focusing instead on the scent of the forest beyond the walls. But as he focused he became aware of two things. First--the scent of wolves had grown nearly overpowering, and second--Blair was no longer beside him. 

Startled, Jim shook himself out of the zone. One glance around confirmed that he had indeed been zoned for a while. The pyre had burned hot and fierce in his mental absence. And far from weeping at a funeral, the guests had begun dancing, wild music filling the air once again. And the scent of wolves--he could hear howling now amongst the music and the laughter, the sharp cries of animals just beyond the walls. He turned, watching in alarm as a group of young men strode forward to push open the iron gates of the drawbridge. In the darkness beyond the firelight, he could see the baleful eyes of animals gazing inward toward him. 

It was happening again--the drugs were heavy in the air. But this time, Jim had not eaten anything tainted. This time his head was clear. He cast his senses out even as he headed swiftly toward the nearest entrance of the castle. Blair--he caught his Guide's scent, heard the sound of his heartbeat inside, upstairs near Tristan's wing of the castle. Jim wasted no time. 

He took a brief detour past the room where he'd earlier hidden the crossbow he'd borrowed from the barkeeper. If Tristan wanted a fight, Jim would give him one. He wasn't certain what was going on--what the connection between these people and the wolves were. He just knew that somehow it threatened his Guide. 

Reentering the hallway, he headed through the stone halls toward the stairs, intent on reaching Blair. Alarm grew inside him as he heard what was occurring up there--Tristan was with Blair, kissing him, stroking him. He could hear Blair's moans--of pleasure or distress--he couldn't tell, didn't want to guess. He could hear also the sound of clothing being undone, material sliding against skin. He sped up, racing now toward the stairs. 

But no sooner had he rounded a corner than all hell broke loose. Wolves--huge, feral, eyes gleaming yellow in the darkness--entered the castle. He paused only twenty feet from the stairwell, staring down the hall in fear. There were three of them --huge, powerful beasts, staring at him from the far end of the hall. And in their eyes he saw a strange intelligence, and a deep hunger. For one breathless moment they stared at each other--hunters all, Sentinel and animals. Jim's hands tightened on the crossbow--but this wasn't his bow, wasn't the compound bow he was so used to using, the one he could rearm in an instant. It had only one bolt cocked inside it--he'd have to reload after each shot. He'd never get all three of the wolves before they were upon him. 

The wolves broke and charged him. Jim dove off to one side, leaping into an unused room and slamming the heavy oak door shut behind him. He heard the thundering weight of the three wolves as they leaped against the door--heard the crack and splinter of wood. But the door held. For one moment he breathed a sigh of relief. But then, to his shock, the handle on the door turned, twisting to open. Jim threw his shoulder against the door, slamming it shut again. He heard the snarling of wolves beyond. 

Wolves could not open doors! Braced against the door, all his weight pressed to keep it shut, Jim knew that somehow there were humans on the other side of the door as well as those wolves. He'd no doubt in his mind that those had been wild animals--wolves or no in the Black Forest. How or why they were working with humans--his mind couldn't quite grasp the possibilities. 

Looking around in desperation, he tried to find something to hold the door. The room was nothing more than a side parlor--a few chairs, a coffee table. The chairs were not tall enough to brace under the door handle. He had only one option. 

"Crap," he muttered under his breath as he slung the crossbow over his shoulder. Then taking a deep breath, he bolted toward the window, leaping through the glass as the door crashed open behind him. 

He landed on the cold flagstones of the courtyard. More wolves appeared from out of the shadows near the castle walls. But Jim had done his homework earlier. He rolled swiftly to his feet, thankful that he'd seen fit to wear his heavy leather coat earlier as the glass crunched beneath him. Then he leaped toward the thick ivy coating of the castle wall nearby and began climbing. Five feet, six feet--he just barely made it past the snapping jaws of the wolves below him. 

Two men emerged from the room below--two of the Alpha's he'd seen earlier. They watched his progress briefly, before one returned inside. The other began climbing up after Jim. Jim climbed faster. 

Three stories up, he dialed his hearing--Blair was still with Tristan, and their coupling was growing more heated by the moment. Rage flooded through Jim, jealousy flaring to life like a wild fire inside him. Reaching another window, he yanked open the glass door, and stumbled inside. 

Another room--door wide open. Jim raced for it, unslinging the crossbow as he ran. One large black wolf dominated the hallway beyond. Jim raised the crossbow and fired even as the animal leaped for him. He saw the bolt strike home, burying itself deep in the heavily furred chest. The wolf howled in pain, dropping to the floor--but somewhere else, nearby, he heard the cry of a human as well, a human voice screaming in pain with the wolf he'd dropped. 

Not sparing it more than a second's thought, Jim raced down the hall, leaping over the fallen animal, even as he rearmed the crossbow. He had to get to Blair. 

He turned the corner. He could hear the others coming--other wolves, padded paws and sharp claws scrapping across the stone floors. Musk filled the air, the hot scent of hunting animals. He rounded a corner, nearly stumbling across one of the upper floor balcony railings. He could see the large curved stairwell at the far end of the hall. Not one or two animals this time--a whole pack of hunting wolves. At least a dozen of the animals were streaking up the stairs toward him. Jim fired a second bolt, hitting the lead wolf in the front shoulder. It stumbled and fell, and down below he heard again another human crying out in pain. He re-armed the bow. 

It slowed the advancing pack briefly and Jim raced toward the doorway to Tristan's suite. He shoved open the door--it gave immediately, unlocked as it was. The locks had been unnecessary--two men stood guard in the outer room, and beside them stood two wolves. Jim shot immediately, taking out one of the wolves instantly. One of the men collapsed as well, gasping in pain. 

Unable to re-arm the bow, Jim simply swung the heavy weapon, catching the second man in the side of the head. He crashed hard into the stone wall, blood streaking his temple. He dropped and Jim turned toward the second wolf. The animal snarled in rage and leaped at him, jaws snapping, teeth razor sharp. Jim swung the bow again, missing. He stumbled back. The wolf darted forward, his teeth tearing a deep rent in Jim's jeans. Pain blossomed in his leg and instinctively he kicked out. He caught the animal a glancing blow against the ribs. 

The wolf stumbled and Jim used that brief distraction to pull back the catch on the bow and re-arm it. His leg nearly gave out beneath him and he stumbled, turning in panic to face the animal. The wolf leaped for his throat this time, and Jim raised the bow, firing. It struck home, catching the animal dead center in the chest, burying itself all the way inside him. The heavy weight of the animal crashed into Jim, carrying him down to the ground. He caught the beast, pushing it aside as he tried desperately to catch his breath. 

But he had no time to lose. He grabbed the bow, only to discover the bolts were all gone. He had no way to reload it. Cursing, he stumbled toward the door to Tristan's bedroom. One glance inside confirmed Jim's worst fears, and his rage erupted in a shout of denial. Tristan and two women were with Blair. His Guide was naked, face down on the covers of the great curtained bed. The women on either side of him were stroking his hair, whispering softly to him as they kissed his back and shoulders. Tristan was nearly on top of him braced between Blair's spread legs, hands in the process of opening his pants--he was seconds away from taking Blair, seconds away from lying on top of him and burying his cock in Blair's body. 

Jim didn't think--he simply acted on instinct. One minute he was by the door, the next he was racing across the room and leaping. He caught Tristan in a full body tackle, carrying him across the bed and off the other side. They tumbled to the floor, Tristan shrieking in rage, the bed curtain tearing. Jim, landing on top, drew back his fist and struck. His knuckles encountered flesh in a satisfying crunch only once before another weight knocked him off the castle lord. 

A wolf, larger than the rest, bore Jim to the ground, and luck alone saved Jim from getting his throat torn out in that instant. He'd somehow gotten the bed curtain tangled up around his body, and the heavy material shielded him briefly from the wolf's sharp teeth. But it saved him only once, for the wolf snapped and snarled in fury. Jim felt pain as the animal's strong hind claws dug into his belly. He caught hold of the animal's fur, trying desperately to keep those teeth away from his face and throat. The strength of the creature stunned him. He had but one chance--he rolled, taking the rest of the bed curtain with him. Strong or not, the wolf did not quite outweigh him. Jim struggled on top, and the curtain, wrapped now around both Jim and the wolf, hampered the wolf's attempts to scramble out from underneath him. Jim used the opportunity to do the only thing left to him--he drew back his fist and began hitting the animal in the face. 

His blows were crushing and the animal howled in pain. Five strikes, and then something sharp and painful wrapped tightly around his throat and began pulling him off the animal. 

A garrote made of the silk curtain cord choked off his air. Tristan tightened the rope, pulling Jim up and off the wolf, using all his strength to crush Jim's windpipe. 

Jim grasped at the rope, trying to break it, to ease its pressure. Tristan snarled in his ear. "He's mine, Detective. They're all mine! How dare you challenge me!" 

Strong Tristan might be, linked in some inexplicable way Jim didn't understand to these fierce wolves--but Tristan was no Special Forces operative. Jim struck back hard with his elbow, shifted his weight, twisted his body. In moments he had Tristan off balance. Seconds later the castle lord flew over his shoulder, striking the ground with a bone crushing crash. Jim ripped the garrote from his throat as he kicked the man sharply in the ribs. He heard the satisfying sounds of bones cracking beneath his boots. The man screamed in agony. 

But the wolf had freed itself from the curtain, and now Jim saw it was not alone. Two other wolves flanked it--both smaller, female, but just as deadly. But another object had caught Jim's attention. Only a foot away from him, strapped to the castle wall as decoration was an old-world Morning Star. One step and he clasped his hand around the hilt, yanking the mace from the wall. The heavy iron ball attached to the long chain swung free, a welcomed weight in his hand. He swung it twice, picking up speed and momentum. The male wolf leaped. Jim landed a crushing blow against the side of its head. Blood spurted into the air, coating the wall and the bed where Blair lay unmoving. The wolf collapsed to the ground, and Tristan, in the process of trying to rise, collapsed with it. 

The other two wolves took advantage of Jim's distraction and darted swiftly forward. One caught hold of his right wrist, sinking her teeth deep into his flesh and preventing him from swinging the Morning Star again. The heavy weapon dropped from his hand, and Jim stumbled to his knees in agony as he tried to rip his hand free of the wolf's teeth. 

It left him completely open to the second wolf, and he had only a second to raise his gaze in horror as the animal leaped toward him, intent on his throat. One hand would not keep those teeth from his jugular. 

But the wolf never struck. The instant before it reached Jim another silver shape leaped from the shadows beyond the bed and caught the animal by the throat bearing it down to the ground. Another wolf, Jim realized in shock--attacking not him but the second wolf. 

Incongruitious as it was, not certain if it simply wanted to make the kill instead of allowing the female to do so, Jim took the moment's reprieve to grab up the fallen weapon. He used the handle to pry his hand free of the wolf's jaw, striking the animal hard on the nose in the process. Howling in pain the wolf released him, backed away. Jim raised the Morning Star again--the wolf bolted toward the door. A mad scrambling across the bed caught his attention as the two women also bolted toward the door in panic. It left only the other two wolves still locked in snarling, vicious combat. The animals fell over themselves in a fit of fur and teeth, snarling and snapping so violently that the sound hurt Jim's ears. And then the female scrambled away and followed the two women out the door. 

Jim hefted the Morning Star, gritting his teeth through the pain of his wounds as he turned to face the remaining wolf. It was a silver male, large and strong. Jim wasn't certain he had the strength left to fight another one of them. 

The wolf turned, blue eyes flashing as it gazed up at Jim. And for one brief, startling moment Jim thought he saw something familiar in those eyes, something desperate and sad and so lost. He heard the cry then of a cat, saw from the corner of his eyes the black jaguar appear, snarling in dismay. And then remarkably, the wolf whimpered and lay down in submission, placing his silvered head upon his front paws as it gazed mournfully up at Jim. 

Jim's leg gave out and he collapsed in shock. "Blair," he whispered, for the look in those clear blue eyes was so familiar. The animal whimpered again. Jim's mind felt numb. 

A sound caught his attention then--more wolves, beyond the door. The blue-eyed wolf perked his ears and turned. The animal growled in warning, and regardless of whatever was happening, Jim understood one thing--this animal was no threat. For some reason it intended to fight for Jim. 

Jim wasted no time in crossing the room and slamming the door shut. Unlike the parlor, this one had a heavy wooden brace that dropped down over it, sealing it off from outsiders. He quickly locked out the remaining animals and humans beyond. 

Turning, he saw that the wolf still had not moved. Nor had Blair. His Guide still lay face down on the bed, completely still, and Jim felt a moment of blind panic as he feared that Tristan had done him some irredeemable harm. 

But no, surely he had just drugged him, like before. 

Heart pounding in desperation, Jim limped to the bed and caught Blair by the shoulders turning him over. "Blair?" he whispered. His Guide fell over limply in his arms. "Blair?" Blair's eyes were open but empty, his face completely expressionless. For one awful moment Jim thought he might be dead. 

But no, he could hear his heart beating still. His skin was still warm, his lungs still filled with breath. He touched his fingers to the young man's throat--strong and steady, his pulse was like music to Jim's senses. "Blair, wake up!" He shook him. But there was no response--no more so than there had been that morning in the woods. A zone out--so far gone that Jim couldn't see even the slightest flicker in his eyes. 

The wolf whimpered in fear and Jim paused to stare at him. What in hell was going on? First things first, he had to make certain the room was secure. 

Settling Blair gently back down on the bed, he pulled a blanket over the young man's naked form. Then he crossed to the black wolf. One quick inspection revealed that the side of the animal's head had been caved in by the heavy mace. The wolf was dead. 

And Tristan--Jim turned him over. Tristan gazed up at Jim with the same blank expression in his eyes as Blair had. Frowning, Jim reached for his pulse--not quite as strong or steady, but still there. Yet, Tristan was completely unresponsive. Strange, he thought. The most Tristan should have suffered was a few broken ribs, possibly a bruised jaw. He'd never hit the man in the head. 

But Tristan had collapsed the moment the wolf collapsed. He remembered the human screams he'd heard accompanying the wolves he'd injured earlier. And when he'd first entered Tristan's outer chamber he'd shot one of the wolves-- and a man had instantly collapsed with it. 

His mind churned through possible explanations--all things Jim did not want to entertain as reality. He turned to Blair--he had to wake him, had to get him to see what was happening. Maybe Blair could understand this? Maybe Blair could help him make sense of this? 

He rose, crying out in pain as his wounds made their presence known again. A quick inspection: his shin was bleeding badly, as well as his wrist from deep tooth marks. He needed them bandaged, needed to clean them properly. One thing only assured him--all these animals smelled healthy and undiseased. 

He could hear noises outside the door now, wolves scratching at the wood. And people were now pounding against it, calling out to Tristan to let them inside. Not good, Jim thought. Not good at all. He had to get out of here--had to get Blair out of here. But he knew he lacked the strength to carry Blair anywhere even if he could find a way past those animals beyond. Injured as he was, the window was no longer an option. 

Crossing to the bed, he touched Blair's face again. "Come on, Chief," he whispered. "You have to wake up for me. We have to get out of here." He breathed deeply and felt a flash of rage burning through him again as he realized that he could smell Tristan on him. Tristan's arousal, his sweat and saliva. This had gone on far past kissing this time--and Jim flashed briefly on the image he'd beheld when he first entered the room. A second later and it would have been over--what was it Naomi had said, that if Tristan had succeeded in seducing Blair, that Blair would be lost to him forever? 

Blair looked pretty lost now as it was. "Blair, please," Jim shook him again. The wolf watched it all, eyes mournful and sad, and Jim couldn't help but remember the spirit animal he'd seen by that fountain. But no, this was not the same--not entirely, that other wolf had been vision only--like the jaguar. This animal was flesh and blood--he could smell it for God's sake! 

What was it Allisia had said--something about humans sending their consciousness into he minds of animals. How the hell was he supposed to accept that--but here in this moment of chaos it was the only thing that was making any sense to him. Was that why Tristan was unconscious--because his wolf had died while his consciousness was inside it? 

But why wasn't Blair waking up. He stared again at the wolf. "Blair?" he whispered. The animal whimpered. Jim shuddered--he couldn't accept it! How could it be possible? But if it was, why wasn't Blair waking up? If he could send his mind into the wolf, why couldn't he pull his mind back? 

The sound of pounding at the door distracted him momentarily, and he stood up, beginning to pace in a panic. He had little fear that they'd get inside the room any time soon--this was a castle and this room was the most fortified of all of them. It would take a battering ram to break down the heavy oak of Tristan's door. But Blair--how was he going to get Blair out of here? How was he going to wake him up? 

"Detective!" a voice from beyond the window called to Jim. He moved swiftly toward the window. Only a Sentinel would have been able to make out the dark shapes below in the fire-lit courtyard. Jim's eyes zeroed in on the group of Alphas he'd seen earlier. "Detective. We know Tristan is gone--you killed his wolf. His mind is lost. But surely you don't want that to happen to Blair? Give him to us and we'll let you go. You can walk out of here unharmed." 

"Blair is mine!" Jim yelled down to them. "Tristan couldn't have him and neither can you!" 

"You can't save him, Detective," one of the Alphas raged at him. "Look at him! He's trapped. He doesn't know how to get back. Tristan didn't have time enough to show him. If you leave him like he is, he'll die! You can't want that. None of us want that. Let us have him. Let us save him!" 

"Save him? How? By raping him?" Jim shouted back down in fury. 

"You can't understand, Detective. You don't what we are. You don't understand our ways. Give him to us, before it's too late! If he is not bound and bonded, he will be lost forever!" 

"Like hell," Jim muttered under his breath. He drew back from the window, closing it firmly. Let them howl all they wanted. Blair was his, his friend, his Guide, his partner. The Sentinel/Shaman connection had to take precedent over wolf-blood. 

He turned toward the bed. Blair still lay unmoving. And his heartbeat had slowed perceptibly, grown weaker. Bound and bonded--God! They were talking about grounding him--like Blair did when Jim zoned. It some strange, twisted way, it made sense--if Jim zoned on one sense, Blair used another sense to pull him back. This wasn't much different--Blair was lost, zoned. Tristan and those others intended to use one of the strongest physical sensations possible to bring him back to himself--sex. Jim had seen it work twice before--last night at that party, and this afternoon in the forest. 

But somehow he doubted simple kisses would work this time--he'd gone beyond that this time. And if he didn't do something, or didn't let those Alphas down below do something, Blair would be lost. He could hear his heartbeat slowing, could practically feel Blair drifting farther and farther away from him. 

Bound and bonded. Bound back into his body, and bonded to an Alpha. That was what Allisia had meant by Master. That's what Naomi had hinted at when she warned him against leaving him alone with Tristan. Jim knew, deep in his gut, that if he let one of those other Alpha's 'help' Blair, Blair would be tied to him forever. He couldn't allow that. Couldn't accept it. 

Which left him with only one option. 

"Oh, dear God!" he squeezed his eyes shut in shock. 

Jim's heart began racing, his skin growing uncomfortably hot with the realization of what it was he had to do--what it was he intended to do. This wouldn't be like earlier, like it had been in the forest. He wasn't just going to kiss Blair. A simple kiss would not bring Blair back. Jim flashed briefly on the clouded memory of last night. Of holding Blair in his arms against that alcove wall, feeling him writhing and panting against him, Blair's heat, Blair's taste. 

Jim shuddered, his own body tingling with reaction to that memory. God, what was he doing? He was going to claim Blair, to have sex with Blair--with a man! But if he understood all he'd heard, there was no other choice. Either that or let someone else take Blair, claim Blair--and as terrifying as the thought of sex with a male was to Jim, everything inside him cried out against the thought of leaving Blair to someone else. 

He crossed to the bed, climbing slowly upon it. His body ached, hurt from the wounds he'd received, but he couldn't deny the slow heavy rise of arousal within him at the thought of what he was going to do. He glanced at the wolf, saw the animal staring at him curiously. 

"You understand, don't you?" he asked, feeling foolish talking to the creature. "You understand why this has to happen? You'll. . .Blair will die. . ." But no, this was ridiculous--even if Blair was inside that wolf, surely he wouldn't be able to understand his words. He turned toward his unmoving Guide. "You have to come back to me, Chief," he said softly. He touched Blair's face. "Blair? You have to wake up now. You have to come back to me." But there was no response--as he knew there wouldn't be. 

"Come on, Blair, please," Jim pleaded. "Don't make me do this, Chief. . .don't make me. . ." He shivered. Blair did not respond at all. 

"Blair," he leaned forward, breathing deeply, taking in his Guide's scent. It was such a sweet smell, so familiar, it permeated his own body. But still mixed within it was Tristan's scent and the jealousy returned full-blown. How could he feel such rage, he wondered. How could he feel such jealousy for a man he wasn't supposed to want like this? Was he truly so twisted up inside? He didn't want Blair, but by God no one else better touch him either. 

But he did want Blair--he couldn't deny that, not with his body craving that heat, craving that taste. Not with his cock growing hard and heavy at the mere thought of touching him. How could he do this? How could he want this when the thought had never before occurred to him? A buddy-fuck, he tried to tell himself. He'd heard about them all his life--had known guys in the army who had practiced such release--perfectly straight guys who'd gone on to marry women and never think about it again. Not for him--never for him--but if he could think of it as that--perfectly understandable. And necessary in this situation. 

But the howling outside was growing louder and the jaguar growled in warning. They wanted Blair, they would take Blair away from him--he'd never see his Guide again--and that was unacceptable. Utterly unacceptable. 

He paused in the act of leaning down to kiss his Guide. Men don't kiss--somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely remember hearing a conversation about those self same 'buddy-fucks' he'd never paid any attention to. Fuck a man--just don't kiss him. Kissing was too much, too intimate, kissing implied something more. But staring down at Blair's full, lush lips he couldn't imagine doing this without kissing--how could he not want that taste? 

Jim moved forward swiftly, claiming Blair's mouth, pressing a fierce kiss against those soft lips. And the heat of Blair's body burned him, rising with his own temperature so that he drank desperately, forcing his tongue into that sweet dark mouth. And as before, as it had in the woods--there was a spark immediately, sudden life flaring in the still body--Blair gasped, opening his mouth to Jim, allowing him entrance, allowing him anything as Blair's body arched against him. 

The anger was there again, as it had been before--so fierce, so hated, to think that Blair would respond like this to anyone--any one of those Alphas below if they just touched him, kissed him, tasted him. Did he even know it was Jim holding him, Jim kissing him? 

He almost stopped then--almost pulled back to see if Blair was awake and aware. But Allisia's words came back to haunt him--as long as Blair remained unbonded, she'd said, the Alphas would never left him leave. They'd take him from Jim the moment he stepped outside this room, and that was unacceptable. He couldn't stop--couldn't let the anger, jealousy or fear stop him from following through. 

He cursed against those soft lips, muttering recriminations against his Guide's skin. And then he deepened the kiss, lowering his body to Blair's. 

Blair moaned, writhed against him, his arms coming up around Jim's back, one of his legs bending and sliding against Jim's hip as he rubbed his now swollen cock against the hard pressure in Jim's pants. And his kiss was so hot, so desperate; Jim groaned and rubbed against him, unable now to get close enough, unable now to stop. He sucked Blair's tongue into his mouth, reveling in the sounds his Guide made, letting his senses sweep over Blair's body--scenting his arousal, his need. Pheromones filled the air until Jim was certain that even the wolves beyond would be able to smell them, smell their desire. 

Heated kisses down Blair's neck, against the pulse point at his throat, and Jim's teeth closed over the bite mark he'd made the night before. Blair cried out, arching against that sudden pain. He felt his Guide's hands tighten on the leather of his jacket, clawing at him even as his hips moved harder against him. It built so swiftly, Jim thought he would explode. But he wanted to taste more, wanted to taste it all. 

He moved down, his mouth closing over one of Blair's hardened nipples and the gasp of pleasure that came from Blair shot arousal straight to his groin. He didn't think he could stand much more, didn't think he could hold back; yet he knew that more was required of him. This wasn't about foreplay he tried to remind himself even as he ran his tongue over that nipple and suckled it hard. This was about taking, about claiming--he couldn't afford to delay this, didn't want to delay this. 

Even as he tasted and kissed Blair's skin, he reached down between his Guide's spread legs, his hands closing briefly over Blair's throbbing cock--and oh, God, he liked the way it felt in his hands, liked the weight and the silk and the heat of it. Blair thrust up into his grip, trying to bring himself relief, crying out and thrashing beneath him. Jim released him immediately, moving further down, sliding his fingers over the heated perineum, seeking out the hidden entrance there. He fingered Blair and his Guide nearly came up off the bed in reaction, spreading his legs farther apart, making it easier for Jim to reach, to touch. 

Hot rage boiled through Jim as he realized that his Guide was already oiled, already prepared for what was to come. Tristan of course had done it already--and Jim felt the sudden need to kill the unconscious castle lord for daring to put his fingers here, daring to touch Blair like this. 

Blair cried out, thrusting back hard against Jim's fingers. He felt his fingers slip inside his Guide, felt the tight heat surround him, and he lost his train of thought. Lost all thoughts of Tristan as the sensations flooded him. He had to have this--had to take Blair, had to be inside him now. 

With a strangled cry, he drew swiftly back, reaching for his own belt. And the sight of Blair lying beneath him, staring up at him through passion clouded eyes nearly made him come right there. He tore at the buttons of his jeans, releasing his aching cock. Blair looked so beautiful, his skin flushed, his lips swollen, his chest glistening with sweat as it rose and fell with his gasping breath. His body was so perfect, slender, muscled, his chest covered in a light dusting of hair, his cock thick and sleek, swollen from Jim's touch--and Jim couldn't quite get his mind around the fact that he found this man so arousing, that he could ever find a male body so beautiful--but God, he'd never seen anything more lovely in his life. 

He caught hold of Blair's legs, pushing his knees up to his chest. And Blair moved willingly, so trusting, so hungry with his need. And it was more than Jim could bear. He surged forward, placed his cock against Blair's entrance and thrust deep inside the young man. 

Blair screamed, his whole body arching in shock, and there was blinding pleasure, beyond anything Jim had ever known. Blair's cries at the coupling were not of pain--though that was there to some degree--but of hunger and need and desperation and fear all swirled together in chaos. But the pleasure was all consuming, and Jim found himself thrusting mindlessly into his Guide's tight body, his hips working fiercely to drive himself deeper and deeper into that source of ecstasy. He drove himself forward over Blair's body, burying his face against his Guide's throat as he took in his scent and his taste, even as he took his body. Blair's arms wrapped tightly around Jim, one hand sinking into Jim's hair as he moved with Jim's rhythm, driving his hips upward as Jim drove down into him. And God, Blair's legs were made to wrap around his hips like that, the hard strength of his muscles lending speed to Jim's thrusts. 

It couldn't last--it could never last--anything so explosive, so blinding--the sheer need would make his heart burst if it went on any longer. And he could feel the pressure coiling inside Blair, heard the change in his cries as he arched and rocked frantically beneath Jim. Jim's thrusts increased, desperate now, so violent they shook the entire bed. He thrust his hands into Blair's hair, pulled his face toward him, and kissed him fiercely. And Blair's scream of pleasure and release entered him, sending vibrations through his whole body and he came, exploding inside that hot body, spilling his seed in the ultimate act of claiming. 

He collapsed at last, gasping for breath, forgetting for a moment that he was lying on his smaller Guide. But Blair's arms were still locked around him, and he could feel the young man shaking beneath him, trembling with reaction. For a long moment Jim did not move, letting his thoughts resettle, letting his brain reconnect with his mind. He inhaled Blair's scent--and it was different now, or perhaps it was just Jim's perception of it that was different--it seemed at once sharper, stronger, more intimate. He nuzzled the skin at Blair's neck unconsciously, his tongue darting out to taste that scent. 

Blair shuddered again, gasping at the sensation; and that movement and sound pulled Jim all the way back. He realized then where he was, what he was doing--the hunger finally lifted. He'd just had sex with Blair--with a man. God, he was lying on top of him, still buried inside his body, and his skin thrummed with energy, more alive than he could ever remember feeling. What in hell was he doing? What in hell was going on with the two of them? His thoughts crashed against his emotions and left him utterly confused. 

Wolves--he could hear them howling still. And the wounds on his body were beginning to make themselves known again. They were still surrounded by the enemy. He still had to find a way to get them out of here--get them both safely away from the castle. And Blair. . . God! Blair! He'd been lost--Jim was afraid to draw away, afraid to look into Blair's eyes. What if they were still blank and vacant? What would he do? How could he bring him back? 

And what if they weren't? 

But the wolf literally still howled at the door, and Jim knew he didn't have time to delay. He pulled back, pushed himself up off the smaller man. Blair's arms released him immediately, though his legs were still somewhat loosely wrapped around Jim's hips. Jim pushed upward and found himself staring down into Blair's blue eyes--they were aware at last, but filled with confusion as if uncertain what was going on or where he was. 

Jim gently braced one hand against Blair's hipbone and slowly pulled his softening cock out of the younger man's body. As he slid out he saw Blair's eyes widen in shock, as if realizing for the first time what that sensation was, what it meant. The confusion in his expression gave way to panic, his flushed skin growing pale as he began to hyperventilate. 

Released from their embrace Jim stared down at Blair in horror, not certain what to do. One of two things was happening here--either everything he'd believed ten minutes ago was true and his Guide had been psychically forced into the body of a wolf and then pulled back just as suddenly into his own body. Or he really was insane and Tristan had simply drugged Blair--which meant that Jim had just essentially raped him. He felt sick to his stomach. 

He reached out tentatively, placing his hand against Blair's chest where he could feel his pounding heart. "Blair?" he asked softly. 

And then they both froze--a more immediate sound catching their attention: the low angry growl of an animal. 

Jim and Blair both turned to look. There in the far corner of the room was the silver wolf. He'd backed himself into a corner and stood defensively with his hackles raised, fangs bared as he glared at both of them. The look in his eyes was different now--wild, feral--there was no longer that gleam of awareness Jim had seen earlier. This was nothing more than a wild animal who'd discovered himself trapped. 

Jim reached slowly for the Morning Star, realizing that he'd have to get down off the bed to retrieve it from the floor. The wolf didn't look as if he was going to give him that much of an opportunity. Any second now it was going to leap. 

And then just as suddenly, Blair sat up, one hand stretched toward the animal, a hard, focused gleam in his eyes. The wolf snarled, and then suddenly stopped, looking vaguely confused. Finally he just lay down on the floor and watched the two of them expectantly. Blair dropped his hand, breathing hard, looking utterly drained. 

Jim stared at him. So he hadn't been mistaken. There was some strange connection between Blair and that wolf. "What did you just do?" he asked, not certain he wanted to know. 

Blair shivered and bowed his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered, almost too soft for even the Sentinel to hear him. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you earlier about the wolves. I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess." 

Not certain how to respond to that, and not certain if he should touch Blair again, he made an abortive attempt to pat his shoulder, dropping his hand at the last second. Blair turned toward him, his gaze running swiftly over Jim, noting with a flush the fact that Jim's jeans were still unbuttoned. Embarrassed, despite the fact that Blair was sitting there stark naked, Jim quickly readjusted his clothing. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through. . . that you had to. . .," Blair shuddered and sighed, closing his eye. "Gods, Jim. . .I. . .. " 

"Look, we still need to get out of here," Jim pointed out. "We're essentially trapped in this room. And we're surrounded by those nut cases and their wolves." 

Even as Jim spoke, Blair's eyes fell on Tristan and his gaze widened in shock. "Tristan?" he scrambled swiftly out of bed and hurried to his cousin's side. Blind rage flashed through Jim. Surely he wasn't concerned about that animal? Tristan had tried to kill him! He felt his skin flush with fury as he watched Blair reach out and touch Tristan's face, placing his hand along side his cheek. 

"Sandburg!" he roared. He grabbed Blair's bare arm, jerking him away from the unconscious man. Blair stumbled and fell against Jim, his naked body pressed up against his. Despite what had just happened Jim felt his body reacting to Blair's presence; he was growing hard again, wanted to push Blair back down on that bed and take him again. "What in Hell are you doing? Do you have any idea what he was going to do to you? What he tried to do to me?" 

"How badly are you hurt?" Blair asked, one of his hands sliding down to close gently around Jim's wounded, bleeding wrist. 

Jim hissed in anger. "You didn't answer my question!" 

"Yes, Jim," Blair said quietly. "I know what he was going to do. You did it before he could, it would seem." 

At that Jim paled, recoiling from Blair as if he'd been struck. "You were. . . you wouldn't wake. . . I had to . . ." 

"It's all right, Jim," Blair cut in quickly. "I understand. And I didn't want Tristan--never wanted to join him. I never wanted this to happen. You did the right thing. I'm sorry." 

"Shit!" Jim cursed, hating every bit of this conversation. 

"Jim, I'm sorry--" 

"Look, let's just concentrate on getting out of here. We'll worry about the rest of it later." Jim paused to look down at his Guide, becoming conscious of the way he still had the young man pressed against him, his hand still holding Blair in place beside him. He forced his fingers to unclench from around his Guide's arm. "You need to get dressed." 

Blair, as if realizing that he was still naked, turned swiftly away and began looking for his clothes. He found them tossed off to one side of the room. Jim couldn't seem to help himself--he watched intently as Blair scrambled back into his clothes, committing the lines of Blair's body to memory. His heart pounded oddly in his chest, aching strangely, and he couldn't help wonder if he'd ever see Blair unclothed again. 

"Detective!" the voice of the Alpha below called again. Jim moved toward the window cautiously. "You're running out of time, Detective." 

Glaring down at the man, Jim regretted being out of crossbow bolts--he'd start target practice if he had anything left to shoot. Blair moved up along side of him and pushed open the window. "Marco!" he yelled down to the man below. 

Blair's voice caught the attention of all the wolves and humans below. They turned as one to stare up at the castle window. Finally the howling ceased. 

"Marco, Tristan is gone," Blair informed him. 

The dark-eyed man stared hard up at him. "How has this stranger brought you back?" Marco demanded. "He does not smell like a wolf!" 

"He is from a different tribe, Marco," Blair informed him. "Not wolf--but not so different either." 

"Come down here, Blair," Marco ordered. "Come down here and I will bring you back to the family." 

Every instinct in Jim told him to grab Blair and pull him away from the window. He could hear the black jaguar snarling in rage at the Alpha's suggestion. Jim's hands clenched into fists and he moved fractionally closer to the heat of his Guide. 

"No, Marco," Blair shook his head. "You know I can't do that." 

"You belong with us!" Marco insisted. 

"I am the Shaman, not you," Blair told him. "I know where I belong. You cannot change this. You must let us leave here--both of us." 

Marco angrily began pacing back and forth like a caged animal. In the darkness and firelight his eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire. Jim couldn't help wonder what Allisia's definition of a 'good and honorable man' was--if this creature below him was the one amongst this group she thought he could trust with Blair's safety. 

"Marco, listen to me," Blair reasoned when it became obvious that Marco was not going to respond. "Tristan killed Andros." 

That caught the man's attention. "We know." 

"Do you also know that last night Tristan killed a villager?" 

The man stopped pacing, growing still. "Are you certain?" 

"Yes, Marco," Blair nodded. "I have seen it. He wanted to return to the old ways. But those days are gone--the villagers will not stand for this. Even now they have sent for help. Men will arrive--from the military. They will come and they will hunt every wolf they can find in this area. You're in charge now Marco--as Andros meant you to be. You must take the others and get them away from here. You must protect the tribe." 

Jim stared at his Guide in silent disbelief. He spoke to this man as if he were a Sentinel--protect the Tribe? A tribe of wolves? Of killers? So much of this made no sense. 

"Are you certain, Blair?" Marco asked, and his voice no longer sounded so angry or so confident. "Are you certain they are coming?" 

"Yes, Marco," Blair nodded. "I have seen it." 

"Come with us," Marco pleaded. "We are blind without you?" 

But Blair shook his head. "I can't. You know that." 

"How are we to make our way without you?" Marco asked, one hand outstretched in entreaty. Jim's heart tightened. His Guide hated turning his back on anyone who might need his help. 

Blair's mouth twisted in an odd frown and for a moment Jim feared he was going to give in to the request. 

"I can't stay," Blair told him tiredly. "You'll have to accept my word on that." 

Marco stared long and hard up at Blair, and around him the rest of the pack waited in breathless silence. Jim watched the silent struggle, wondering what he could do to ensure the outcome of the moment. And then something shifted in Marco's eyes and he saw the man's capitulation even though he reached a hand imploringly to Blair. "Stay with us," he asked. Not an order this time, a request. "We can make you happy, Blair." 

That more than anything frightened Jim. Make Blair happy--his Guide had not been truly happy for a long time now. How could he be when things had been so awkward between them ever since Alex had entered their lives? 

"We can give you a home," Marco told him. 

Something dark flickered in Blair's eyes. "I. . . " 

Jim stared at him. I have a home--that was the response Blair was supposed to give. He silently willed Blair to say those words. 

"I can't, Marco," Blair replied softly, and Jim's heart tightened painfully in his chest. He heard the regret in Blair's voice. He also knew that Marco too had heard it. 

Marco's gaze shifted toward Jim, and the coldness in those eyes raised the hair on the back of Jim's neck. He felt the jaguar tensing inside his soul, preparing again to battle. 

But the war it seemed was over. Marco merely stared at him as one Alpha acknowledging another. The threat was not spoken--merely implied. If Jim let down his guard for even an instant, the other Alphas would be waiting in the shadows to take his place. Such was the way of wolves. 

"Go," Marco ordered. "We won't stop you." 

Jim tensed, trying to scan Marco for the truth. But he couldn't really tell anything with all the other sensory input he was receiving. Blair, however, tugged on the sleeve of Jim's leather jacket. "Come on, Jim," he murmured Sentinel soft. "We need to go while we still can." Then he headed toward the door. 

"Blair!" Jim snapped in warning when he realized that Blair intended to unbar the door and walk out into the hallway. Blair glanced over his shoulder at him, noting as Jim grabbed up the Morning Star again. 

"It's all right, Jim," Blair assured him. "Marco is Master now. If he said we can go, we can go." 

Not about to be so trusting, Jim stalked toward Blair, catching his hand before he could lift the wooden beam from the door. He cast out his senses, searching the hall beyond. Oddly enough, he could hear the people and wolves on the other side retreating. They were backing out of the room, out of the hall beyond, back down the stairs. They were all moving outside. In fact he could hear the sounds of car engines beginning to start. He focused and found Marco's voice again--heard him ordering a retreat, ordering an evacuation. 

"All clear?" Blair asked expectantly. 

Jim nodded, and removed the bar himself. The room beyond was deserted. There was no trace of the wolves and men Jim had battled. 

Blair's room was closest, just across the hall, and they went there first to retrieve his bag. Then they made their way together down to Jim's room. Retrieving his belongings, they started back down the stairs. The castle seemed deserted now, only lit periodically by a candle here and there. Not once did Jim relinquish his hold on the Morning Star. He took up point as they moved finally into the courtyard where the light from the pyre was beginning to die out. 

It too was deserted, only the dark shape of a single car waited for them beneath the light of the moon--the limousine that had brought them here. Through the tinted black windows, Jim could see the shape of the same driver behind the wheel. 

As they moved toward the car, the dark shadow of a wolf raced past them, and a moment later a man appeared, stepping toward them from the darkness. Marco--he paused at least ten feet away and tossed something small and dark at Blair. Blair caught it mid flight, holding it up for inspection. A cell phone. 

"Keep it," Marco explained. "You're still our Shaman. We won't loose touch again. I will call." 

"I'll answer," Blair promised him. 

"The driver will take you to the airport. The plane will be waiting." 

"Thank you, Marco," Blair nodded. 

Marco turned then toward Jim, noting the bloody weapon still gripped in his hand. He raised his chin slightly, inhaling deeply as if trying to catch some scent. "Not a wolf," he remarked, indicating Jim. 

Jim glared. "No," he agreed simply, wondering just how strong Marco's sense of smell was. Could he smell Blair on him? Could he smell Jim's scent covering his Guide? 

"Don't much care for cats," Marco shrugged, then he turned and walked away, heading back into the shadowy castle. 

"The feeling is mutual," Jim murmured, and knew from the laugh that echoed from the shadows that Marco had heard him. Blair too, for his Guide stiffened beside him, clutching the cell phone tightly to his chest. 

Jim turned toward him. "What?" 

Blair looked stricken, his heart pounding, as if all this had just hit him. The younger man shook himself suddenly and turned away. "Nothing," he replied, yanking open the car door and tossing his bag inside. "Let's just go." 

Jim climbed in beside him and a moment later the car pulled out of the courtyard and began the long journey back through the moonlit countryside toward the airport. 

Feeling safe at long last, Jim allowed himself to relax, letting his white-knuckle grip on the weapon release. He sank back into the plush leather seat, becoming instantly aware of the aches and pains covering his body. He felt black and blue, not to mention the fact that he was bleeding from several wounds. 

He was about to say something when Blair suddenly yanked open a compartment in the side of the car seat and pulled out a first aid kit. Silently, Blair dropped to his knees on the floor of the car in front of Jim and went to work cleaning and bandaging the various wounds dotting Jim's body. Jim watched him intently as he applied alcohol to the wound visible on Jim's shin through the tear in his jeans. Face pale, lips pinched as if in effort to keep from speaking, a certain pained tightness around his eyes, Blair looked as upset as Jim had ever seen him. He wasn't quite certain what reaction he should expect from his Guide--he had no basis for a comparison. Was Blair angry, frightened, confused--all of the above? Jim wasn't certain what to say. 

Nor did it help that here in the confined quarters of the car, all Jim could smell was the scent of sex. He could smell himself all over Blair--and that was doing things to his mind he didn't know how to deal with. 

Don't think about it, he told himself. And for the love of God, don't talk about it. He couldn't talk about it--not now, not with the memories still so close, with Blair's taste still in his mouth. And he certainly didn't want to think about why Blair's touch, doing this simple task of delivering first aid, suddenly meant so much more than it had in the past. Or why Jim was aware of the heat from Blair's fingers, the pulse of his blood in his veins, the minute shifts in his body as he swayed alternately closer and farther to him with the motion of the car. 

Blair's touch was gentle, tender almost--but then it always had been, all the times Blair had patched Jim up in the past. But when the car took a corner and Blair stumbled and fell against Jim, he flinched away abruptly from Jim's touch--that was different, that was new, and Jim didn't like it. He felt his own anger returning--would Blair have flinched like that from Tristan? From Marco? 

As if sensing his anger, Blair made short work of the first aid job, and then swiftly backed away, moving to sit on the seat opposite Jim. As he put the first aid kit away, he pulled open the limousine's wet bar and took out a bottle of expensive whiskey. Jim watched in some surprise as his Guide poured himself a tumbler full of the liquid and then downed it in a couple of gulps. He poured himself another. 

"Sandburg," Jim growled in warning. "What are you doing?" 

"Getting drunk," Blair explained coldly. "What does it look like I'm doing?" 

Jim stared at him. Granted if anyone had a right to get drunk it was Blair--himself too actually. But this was not a typical reaction for Blair--meditation would have been more his speed. 

A thought occurred to him suddenly, a question he should have asked earlier but hadn't been certain he was prepared to hear the answer to. But he knew he should ask now, before Blair got too drunk to think straight. "Are you. . . did I. . .I mean. . ." Jim growled in frustration--how exactly did one ask one's best friend if he'd managed to hurt him when he'd fucked him for the first time--especially if one didn't want to actually mention the incident in question? "Are you alright?" 

Blair abandoned the tumbler abruptly and began drinking straight out of the bottle. "You mean apart from a sudden desire to chase rabbits? Sure, I'm fine." He held up the bottle and shot Jim a humorless smile. "Just want to get drunk. Don't have a problem with that, do you?" 

Behind the coldness in Blair's eyes there was a look of despair--that more than anything kept Jim quiet. He simply shook his head and fell silent, watching from his own dark vantage point while his Guide drank himself into oblivion. He monitored his Guide's heartbeat and respiration, and when he finally decided Blair had had enough, he reached over and firmly took the bottle from Blair's fingers. Blue eyes glared at him in fury, but only for a moment. Then Blair slumped sideways in his seat and fell asleep. 

Jim replaced the whiskey bottle and took a beer for himself instead. It was daylight by the time they reached the airport. 

They drove straight out onto the tarmac of the private sector of the airport where the family jet waited for them. And while the driver transferred their bags to the aircraft, Jim helped his barely conscious Guide inside. Blair was asleep again by the time they were airborne. 

Worried now for a thousand different reasons, Jim merely watched and waited, uncertain what to do. The farther away they got from Germany, the more like a dream all this seemed. But it hadn't been a dream--he was wounded, blood-stained, and Blair. . .Blair smelled of Jim's semen. That thought hit Jim like a ton of bricks and he shuddered and closed his eyes. 

Oh God, he wondered, what in hell had they done? And how was he ever going to make this right again? 

* * *

Continued in [Part Four](http://archiveofourown.org/works/797252).

Link to text version of part four: http://archiveofourown.org/works/797252


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